Aye, aye, this earth, image of melancholy, Seeks him whom fates adjudge to misery! Here let me lie! Now am I at the lowest! Qui jacet in terra non habet unde cadat. In me consumpsit vires fortuna nocendo, Nil superest ut jam possit obesse magis. Yes, Fortune may bereave me of my crown-- Here, take it now; let Fortune do her worst, She shall not rob me of this sable weed. O, no, she envies none but pleasant things. Such is the folly of despiteful chance, Fortune is blind and sees not my deserts, So is she deaf and hears not my laments; And, could she hear, yet is she willful mad, And therefore will not pity my distress. Suppose that she could pity me, what then? What help can be expected at her hands Whose foot is standing on a rolling stone And mind more mutable then fickle winds? Why wail I, then, where's hope of no redress? O, yes, complaining makes my grief seem less. My late ambition hath distain'd my faith, My breach of faith occasion'd bloody wars, Those bloody wars have spent my treasury, And with my treasury my people's blood, And with the blood my joy and best belov'd,-- My best belov'd, my sweet and only son! O, wherefore went I not to war myself? The cause was mine; I might have died for both. My years were mellow, but his young and green: My death were natural, but his was forc'd. ALEX. No doubt, my liege, but still the prince survives. VICE. Survives! Ay, where? ALEX. In Spain, a prisoner by mischance of war. VICE. Then they have slain him for his father's fault. ALEX. That were a breach to common law of arms. VICE. They reck no laws that meditate revenge. ALEX. His ransom's worth will stay from foul revenge. VICE. No; if he liv'd, the news would soon be here. VILLUP. My sovereign, pardon the author of ill news, And I'll bewray the fortune of thy son. VICE. Speak on; I'll guerdon thee, whate'er it be. Mine ear is ready to receive ill news, My heart grown hard 'gainst mischief's battery; Stand up, I say, and tell thy tale at large. VILLUP. Then hear that truth which these mine eyes have seen: When both the armies were in battle join'd. Don Balthazar amidst the thickest troops, To win renown, did wondrous feats of arms; Amongst the rest I saw him hand-to-hand In single fight with their lord general. Till Alexandro, that here counterfeits Under the colour of a duteous friend, Discharg'd a pistol at the princes back, As though he would have slain their general, But therewithal Don Balthazar fell down; And when he fell, then we began to fly; But, had he liv'd, the day had sure been ours. ALEX. O wicked forgery! O trait'rous miscreant! VICE. Hold thou thy peace! But now, Villuppo, say: Where then became the carcass of my son? VILLUP. I saw them drag it to the Spanish tents.